Habemus scribere vivere…
Writing makes animaginary nest inthe world’s wilderness;a pause in the chaos…
Music emerges from windows:piercing sighs, voracious lips,precocious laughter, naivety.
~ for Paul Eluard
This prison isn’t so bad.Though the nights are cold,tree roots break in to warm him.The guards…
“The imaginary is what tends to become real.”
The surreal is the real only more so.
The thing flows. HM
This is the end, my friend…